Desperate Times
by Kipcha
Summary: Daryl heads back to the church to gather the troops, they need to save Carol and Beth before it's too late. Along the way he picks up a young girl who had just escaped the facility named Clementine. Telltale's The Walking Dead crossover with the TV series.


_Spoilers for_

_Walking Dead Season 5, Episode 3_

_and_

_Telltale's The Walking Dead, Season 2_

_This starts at the end of "Four Walls and a Roof"._

* * *

><p>He hadn't planned on helping anyone else that day.<p>

He had just wanted to find his people and go home.

But somehow, those plans had a knack for not panning out.

His eyes flickered to the girl walking just a step or two behind him, her head hung low as she turned around every few steps to look back behind her, the gunshots still cracking through the evening light. They were no longer being chased, but the sounds had drawn Walkers for miles and when your base is situated on the outskirts of a major city like Atlanta, it doesn't take much to draw a hoard of the undead on you. The knowledge of Carol and Beth being back inside the building surrounded by that mess made him want to race back and help, to get them out of harms way, but his bruises and dizzy mind reminded him harshly that it was a smarter idea to get back to the others as quick as he could and get a plan going. Besides, that place was a damn fortress, he needed reinforcements no matter home much it stung to admit it.

He really should just ditch her now.

Helping her had been a stupid decision, one he could almost hear Merle cussing him out for now.

Save himself the trouble and get back to Rick and the others at the church, get everyone in action and get his ass back to that hospital.

Beth and Carol needed him.

They were top priority.

Nothing else mattered as much as his family did.

No one.

...But he had just saved her life and in that lie the problem. Even if it wasn't true, even if he didn't owe her anything, she was now his responsibility.

He cursed himself for caring, for even hesitating, but something about the situation made him pause.

She looked so small. Standing there, trembling and blood racing down from her temple where a bullet had grazed her just an hour before. Her big brown eyes looked up at him in a mixture of gratefulness, fear and distrust, both sides teetering dangerously as she hugged herself, something darker lurking beneath the surface that looked so out of place in her features. She danced from foot to foot, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She chewed her lip anxiously, constantly looking back in the direction they came, probably to make sure they weren't being followed. Her anxiety was infectious, making him twitchy and he had half a mind to snap at her and tell her to cut it out but in the end he couldn't blame her.

She had just had a seriously close call.

She was tiny, couldn't be more then thirteen yet scrawny, perhaps even a bit under developed for her age but that wasn't uncommon nowadays. He could tell just by looking that she had seen more then her fair share since all this started. But then again, who hadn't in this world? Not everyone had the luxury of being tucked away like that damn priest back at the church and even he was hiding something shady. It was like Rick said, everyone had done something, it was just up to him to figure out what that something was.

A large scar, not too old, roped around her arm that he recognized as a bite, but not from a walker. No, far too long and deep that had shredded the skin and muscle, most likely a dog. She seemed to slightly favor one of her shoulders as well, perhaps an injury that hadn't quite had the chance to heal yet, accessorized by various nicks and scrapes on her skin that spoke of her successful attempt at fleeing the hell hole they had just left behind. He'd seen for himself that she was tough, willing to do what it took to survive. Still, she was near pathetic as a kitten when she stood there in nothing but hospital scrubs and a pair of stolen sneakers that were much too large, her short black hair messy and matted with blood from their escape. Daryl didn't fancy dragging her around, especially when he had more then enough to deal with, but it wasn't like he could just send her back there in to a rain of bullets either. She wouldn't stand a chance how she was now.

She nearly made the choice for him when her quiet voice broke the silence. "Thank you for helping me, but I need to go back. There's someone back there that I have to save. I can't leave him."

"Can't just send ya' back there on your own." Came Daryl's autopilot reply, still chasing the threads of thought that eluded him. Everything was hazy and confused, he was pretty certain he was suffering from that smack to the head he got in the car accident earlier. Had that really just been hours before? "Need ta' get the others. Rick'll know what to do."

She stepped forward, seemingly desperate to make him understand. "I need to go back!"

"Shut up for a second!" Daryl snapped back, his hand reaching out for a second to push her back although he quickly retracted it when she flinched away, unsure and wary. His skull pounded from both the noise and the anger coursing in his veins and he forced himself to still for a moment and breathe.

He needed a plan, he would need help to get Carol and Beth free. If all else he could at least give her a fair shot by bringing her back and letting the others figure something out while he took some of them on a rescue mission.

He sighed heavily, weighing his options. She jumped slightly at the sound, watching warily and waiting for him to speak.

"Hey, kid." He started, "How many walkers have ya' killed?"

She frowned. "I don't have time for this!"

He scowled back. "Indulge me. If ya' answer good 'nough, I'll help ya out. Help ya' save your friend."

She wrung her hands nervously, her expression impatient like she didn't have time to answer his questions but she was humoring him anyway. Smart kid, she knew she needed the help too. "A lot, I've lost count."

"How many people have ya' killed?"

The shift in her expression was immediate. Her eyes darkened with grief as she looked down, her hand moving to her side as if to caress something that wasn't there. "Why do you need to know?"

"Need ta' make sure you're safe to come back with me." He answered gruffly, his impatience getting the best of him. Past Daryl would have thought it was ridiculous, questioning this child like she could ever be a threat but the new world taught him that anyone could be, regardless of age or appearance. He trusted nobody. "Jus' answer."

"I need to go back there." She snapped in response, "I told you! I don't have time!"

"An' how do ya plan on gettin' back out?" He questioned, his tone getting shorter by the second. Every moment mattered. He didn't have time for this. "I can tell you're packin' some major heat now and all, but I don't think ya' stand much of a chance as is. So just answer."

Just leave her, a voice whispered, but he quieted it stubbornly. He couldn't do that. Not unless she insisted or he determined he couldn't trust her.

She was a little girl and despite the fact that he never had much luck saving them, it seemed he held on to a stubborn streak to try.

She glares at him for a moment more before sighing heavily. "Four. I've killed four people, although I've... Seen a lot more."

Daryl stares her down, watching for any sign of a lie. "Why?"

She hesitates and he can tell she's uncomfortable, probably has half a mind to tell him to mind his own damn business like he would have said if he was her, but she surprises him. Her voice is small, whispered, but still audible enough for him to hang on every word.

"Four. I've killed four people." She began, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "One was because he was attacking me. They were taking my friend and she lead most of them off, but he came after me. I pushed him in to a walker and he got bit. Another was trying to kill a different friend of mine, someone I cared about a lot. He'd stolen me away and my friend came to save me. I had never done it before but I had to, the man he was hurting was someone I loved very much. Then there was a woman in our group was being attacked by a walker, I had to make a choice. I cut off her arm. I know that cutting off the limb doesn't stop the bite, I saw it happen before but I needed to try. She died anyways. I didn't exactly kill her like the others, but it was my fault. Then the last..."

Her voice choked off, her eyes falling to the ground and he could see a faint glimmer of tears in her eyes. "He... Was bit... I couldn't leave him to turn..."

"A'righ'."

She jerked her eyes up, looking at him. "I ge' it. We do the same for our own. We don' let family turn." Daryl shrugged his crossbow higher on his shoulder, walking now with purpose back towards the church where Rick and the others were holed up. With that out of the way, it was time to get the hell back. He'd wasted enough time lollygaggin' around. "I need to get some o' the others before headin' back there to take care of business. Why do ya need to go back?"

"AJ."

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder at the girl who stumbled after him. "Who's tha'?"

"Someone I need to watch over." Was her firm response, "I can't leave him. He's all I have left."

Daryl nodded, looking back ahead. "Any chance he'll bust out o' there on his own?"

"He's only five months old, or at least I think so. It's hard to keep track now. But no, he can't."

Daryl turned back to her in surprise. "A baby?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah, a lady in the group I was with had him, but she didn't make it. I was with a few others but... We started losing people. I wound up with a man named Kenny and we came across a place called Wellington, it was supposed to be safe, but it was overrun after just a few weeks. We were with a small group of survivors after that, always on the move but that group was gone soon too. I ran with AJ but we got caught by those people. They took him away and I wasn't able to find him. I need to get him back!"

"I've got people there too." Daryl told her, "So I'm goin' back anyway. Not too much trouble to find your boy too."

Her reply was hesitant, hopeful. "Really?"

"Yeah." He confirmed. "I know the rest of my group 'ill say the same. You'll like 'em, they're good people. Not many like 'em left." He paused for a moment before grunting. "What's your name anyway?"

She smiled slightly, a glimmer of child-like innocence entering her eyes as she looked at him. It was a familiar expression, one that a lot of people had when he told them about the prison and the sanctuary it provided. They looked at him like a damn hero and it never failed to make him squirm in discomfort.

"It's Clementine."

* * *

><p><em>Three hours previously<em>

* * *

><p>"Dammit! Bastards!"<p>

"Daryl! Slow down!"

He was in hot pursuit of the vehicle that was desperately trying to lose them, leading them through every back country road and hick town in Georgia, but he wasn't going to be so easily lost this time. He wasn't on foot, he wasn't alone and he damn well wasn't giving up. One of them would give in at some point and it wasn't going to be him.

Carol clenched her armrest in a desperate attempt to feel even slightly in control as his tires squealed going around a corner, so confused by the abrupt turn of events that no doubt it made her head spin. Not that he could blame her. One minute he's talking her in to coming back to the church and staying with the others, the next they're on a desperate car chase to find a girl that may not even be alive. They were chasing a cold lead, he knew that, but it was the only one he had.

He'd promised to find her and he'd be damned if he was letting the only lead he had get away again.

He swerved slightly as a walker stumbled in his path, thunking off the bumper with a heavy thud, a spray of blood and pus splattering the windshield like a child's finger painting. He turned on the wipers, not that they did much good, rather just smeared it across the glass and making the problem worse then it already was. He cursed to himself, tires squealing around another corner, his eyes fixed on the glow of running lights in front of him.

The sun was just starting to pull itself over the horizon and greet them for fan-fucking-tastic another day, making the chase much easier to pursue but also making their prey more aware of their presence.

"We need ta' get'tem!" Daryl hissed, "Those pricks! I ain't letting them get away again!"

"I know we need to get her Daryl." Carol replied, lifting her hand from her death grip on her seat to rest it gently on his forearm. "But you're going to get us killed! Calm down, we need to be rational about this. We're getting too close to the city, who knows what we'll run in to, we haven't been back here since Sophia." Daryl frowned at the sound of the little girl's name, but Carol pressed on. "You can't just go barrelling in there without a plan. We've been circling this area for a while now, they're obviously trying to lose us but their base must be close by in case they decide they can't and they need back up. We need to come up with a plan."

"They'll get away and they'll be gone again!"

"Daryl, we- LOOK OUT!"

Daryl jerked at the sound, whipping around just in time to see the truck blow through the intersection on their left. He barely had time to blink before the force of the blow blew them sideways, his neck snapping sharply from the sudden hit. The spray of glass, the crunch of metal roaring through his ears and everything went black.

* * *

><p><em>Ping.<em>

_Ping._

_Ping._

"Go' Dammit."

Everything was blurry, disorienting.

Something moved to his right, shifting like shadows and brushing against something.

Metal, it sounded like.

A rasping hiss that reminded him of a snake, the scrape of nails and clicking of rotting teeth.

Which way was up again?

He rubbed a hand to his head, blood coating his fingers.

Where was he?

He groaned, leaning his head back.

What the hell was that annoying sound?

Daryl blinked, flinching when the light attacked his eyes that weren't ready for the stimulation yet. Squinting in the morning light, the sun much higher then he remembered it being. A wave of nausea rose in the back of his throat and he clenched his jaw shut, forcing what little was in his stomach to stay down. Squirrel tasted a lot better going down then it did coming up and it didn't even taste that great to begin with.

Things began to shuffle back in to place in his mind. Their escape from Terminus, the church, the car, Beth, Carol...

Daryl turned to look over and was met with an empty seat.

His fists slammed against the steering wheel, a snarl breaking through his lips. She wouldn't have just left him here, which meant she was gone. Taken away from him, just like Beth.

Those bastards!

He grunted, turning slightly to release himself from the seat belt, pleased to find his crossbow still behind his seat. It was only when he reached back to grasp the weapon that the movement outside the rear window caught his eye. He groaned in annoyance at the sight of the walker attempting to squirm its way through the broken window, its guttural hisses much quieter then usual due to the things vocal cords swinging around in front of its chest. The female's teeth clicked together in desperation, almost as if she could taste him already, the air rushing from her mouth and filling the air with the scent of rotting meat. His nose curled in distaste.

"Ugly skank." He muttered to himself, grasping his knife at his belt and turning awkwardly, his shoulder protesting at the movement, before he drove his knife down through the skull. He grabbed his crossbow before crawling over the seats to exit through the passenger door, his own currently twisted in to strange shapes that he doubted would allow him passage, the truck still pinning it shut.

He looked down, a blood trail still glistening on the pavement from where Carol had been dragged out. No doubt she was unconscious like he had been, he doubted she would have left him without a fight and the line was straight, no signs of a struggle. It continued a few steps before ending beside a pair of burned rubber marks, indicating the kidnappers had gotten out of there in a hurry. But the dampness of the blood was a relief. Not as much time had passed as he had initially thought, couldn't have been more then forty minutes.

He looked up, surprised to realize that he was standing in a real intersection, complete with traffic lights that had been as dead as the walkers for a long time. Useless and dull, like most of the technology that still stood, mere skeletons with no more humans to animate them.

Before him stood buildings and it hit him.

He was at the edges of Atlanta.

He'd been so focused on the task, he hadn't realized how far he had allowed himself to go. The sight of the dilapidated city filled him with dread. He'd never been one for the bustling, noisy, congested cesspool that had been Atlanta before and he hated it even more now that it was filled with the dead.

The sound of a car immediately set him on edge and Daryl got hurriedly off the road, running in to a small shop on the street corner, taking a moment to glimpse inside before getting in and shutting the door. Not a second too soon before the car, black with a white cross in the back window, came barreling through the intersection. It stopped a few meters away from the vehicle he had just escaped, two men in police uniforms nearly leaping out, guns drawn and aimed at the vehicle.

"If you're still in there, come out with your hands up! There's nowhere to hide!" The man yelled. "We have your friend, we can take you to her. Just come out and we won't have to resort to more forceful measures!"

They stood in silence for a moment, waiting. When there was no response the other larger man raced forward, gun drawn, before looking in the vehicle.

"Empty! He's still alive though, took out a rotter on the way!" The man yelled.

"Dammit!" Yelled the first guy, smacking his hand off the door angrily. "She isn't going to be happy about this Charles!"

"I know, but what can we do about it? We had one car, we just took the woman first. She was the more valuable one anyways and we came right back!"

"Well, apparently not fast enough." Remarked the first, rubbing his forehead anxiously. "Do you think he stuck around?"

"Doubt it, although he couldn't have gotten very far." Charles answered, glancing around looking for clues that Daryl doubted he would spot even with a sign labeling exactly where they were. Had he really looked, he would see the evidence on where Daryl went and how long ago, but instead his gaze moved too quickly, too impatient and missing the obvious. Rookie mistake. "We can search around the area, but it's entirely possible he might just wind up at the hospital anyways trying to patch himself up."

"He's survived out here this long, I doubt he's enough of a dumbass to try getting there." The cop snapped back. He paused for a moment, pondering. "Why do you think he was chasing Phil anyways?"

"Who knows?" Charles sighed. "Probably time to head back David. Gwen will have your head if we aren't back in time for inspection."

"We're just a few blocks away, we'll make it. She isn't going to be pleased though, we were supposed to get both of them."

"Like you said, nothing we can do now." Charles answered. "Can't change it. Just be glad we didn't kill them both. I didn't think I hit them that hard but man, they went flying. Anyways, better go, I'm surprised all that noise didn't draw more of the rotters over this way but I'd rather not press our luck. There's been a lot around the hospital these days, last thing we need is to bring them back to camp with us."

Daryl quickly memorized their faces as they headed back to their vehicle. They were two of the people that took Carol, so they were currently at the very top of his growing list of assholes that needed to die.

He waited for a few moments as they got back in their car and drove off, far less hurried this time, before leaving the store and following in the direction they left. It took seconds to spot a hospital, tall and proud against the desolate streets of Atlanta, and now that he had a target and idea where he was going it would be no time at all before he had them both back safe. They'd get back to the church and finally, finally he could have his whole family back together and safe again.

* * *

><p>They say that when you make plans, God's laughing because he decides what happening, not you, or some shit like that. He was never one for remembering exact quotes, but he knew the meaning of them well enough. Daryl didn't necessarily know what he believed in as far as a higher power went, but he knew that someone much have him on their shit list because this was turning out to be a hell of a day.<p>

Whoever it was was certainly laughing now.

"Well, so much for tha' plan." Daryl mumbled, cursing to himself.

Posted guards. Plenty of them, watching the entire area. Even a sniper on the roof. It would be hard finding a blind spot, that was damn sure.

He hung to the shadows, watching as Charles and David marched in to the building empty-handed, although they seemed to register their arrival with some fat guy in a security outfit at the front doors. Daryl was almost envious. They must really have something going here to have people not only healthy, but overweight. He thought back to his crew, how thin most of them were and how hard Daryl had to work to help provide for them. How no matter how much he tried, they still had a hollow look to their cheeks, their collar bones stuck out a little too starkly against their skin. His jealousy deepened.

He didn't like these people, and their little hospital of horrors was beginning to look suspiciously like Terminus 2.0.

He hefted his crossbow, continuing to skirt around the outer fencing, doing his best to make sure he went by undetected. A few walkers groaned at the fences, although not nearly as many as there had been at the prison when their defenses fell. Their guards lined the fences, obsessive about taking out the corpses as soon as they touched the chain link. They had always left a few out and about around the prison like alligators in a moat, but a nuisance, a danger and a form of protection all in one, although their numbers had soon swelled to uncontrollable amounts and that plan had backfired.

He moved to run through an alley when a tingle moved up his spine and he wheeled around, pulling himself in behind a dumpster in time for a car to whip by. Black with a white cross. Seemed to be a theme with these people.

He continued on the move, sticking to that shadows and came up with no real plan. By himself, he just wasn't seeing his lucky break. He would need the others.

"HEY!"

Daryl jumped, hefting up his crossbow and wheeling around to realize that it hadn't been him that had been spotted.

A small feminine figure was sprinting from the facility, a couple of men and women in uniform on her heels. She had managed to nearly reach the fence before anyone had spotted her and with pursuers on her tail she ran like there was no tomorrow, slamming in to the chain link and pressing herself through a small hole that Daryl never would have been able to get through. In her desperation she didn't see a walker come stumbling towards her. She yelped when the walker lurched forward, grasping her arm as she pulled her leg through. She wrenched herself sideways, luckily managing to pull herself from those cold fingers. The men charging after her diverted themselves to get to the gate the cars drove through, raising the alarm to all their comrades as well as the walkers.

"GET'TER!" One of the men yelled, "DON'T LET HER GET AWAY!"

One of the men pulled a gun, firing a round. She cried out, tripping and colliding with the ground with alarming force. For a moment Daryl thought it had been a head shot but she soon stirred, forcing herself up. She dragged herself towards his alley, the walkers around her groping desperately after her, driven madder by the scent of fresh blood. They snapped and snarled at her heels, hungry for her flesh.

He watched her struggle as he watched from around the dumpster. She was heading right for him.

He just wasn't sure what he should do about it. This could be an opportunity he wouldn't get again. That little girl could be the distraction he needed.

But he knew that if this continued, with her unassisted, she would most certainly die, torn apart by teeth or bullets.

He swallowed, frozen in uncertainty.

He could hear her panting breaths now, the patter of her feet on the concrete. In the distance a car revved to life, gun shots ringing out through air, the agitated moans of walkers growing more frenzied.

Then she saw him.

Looked him right in the eye.

Just like that, he couldn't leave her. Not to die like this.

He practically pounced from his hiding place, feline grace in his muscles as he moved, raising his crossbow and firing, a bolt slamming through the left eye of a walker that had been making a grab for the girl. He pulled his knife as she stumbled past, stepping forward and pressing the blade through the creature's skull. A garbled sound rose from its throat, wet with blood and bodily fluids as its jaws snapped shut in one last desperate attempt at a bite before it fell. He slid the blade out and backed up, noticing that the girl appeared frozen in disbelief.

"C'mon, ain't got all day!" He snapped, running down the alley. She hesitated for just a moment, barely at all before she followed.

He needed a plan, he would be getting them back. But he needed the others.

With his destination firmly in mind he ran back towards the church, leaving the chaos to rage behind them.

* * *

><p><em>Present<em>

* * *

><p>He crept through the trees, his brows furrowed in concentration. Chills raced over his skin as the sweat he had shed began to dry in the night air, the soft pants of Clemintine at his side sounding like a gunshot through the silence. He knew they were close, the church should be right through those trees, so why was it so horribly dark and silent? Sure, he had told them more times then he could count to keep their voices down, to keep the fire low to prevent anyone from seeing them. Habits they had grown lax on as they softened within the sanctuary of the prison, but the absolute emptiness of his surroundings set his teeth on edge.<p>

Something wasn't right.

The air was tense, the scent of blood and gunpowder hanging in the night like a curse. The moon did little to illuminate his surroundings and his muscles twitched on reflex as he grabbed his knife.

"What is it? Are they close?" Clementine asked, her hands moving to where her waistband would normally be and finding empty air again. She inhaled sharply as she groped for the gun that she no longer had, no doubt sitting on a table at that hospital.

"They should be." Daryl mumbled, holding out a hand to halt her. "You hang here for a secon'. Hide an' when it's safe I'll holler for ya'."

Clementine nodded, shrinking back in the shadows and crouching in the underbrush, blending in to the dark.

Daryl turned back, making slow, careful progress towards the church. The candles that they had lit were extinguished, an unnerving silence settled over the building like it had not been inhabited with so much life just the night before when he and Carol had left. What the hell had happened?

Then he caught sight of the side of the building. He remembered his old man had taken them ice fishing once, driving way out of town to some frozen lake where the ice had been far too thin for what he had intended to do. One of the most vivid things he remembered about that day was the sensation of the ice giving way under his feet, almost as if in slow motion, and when he had tried to run his weight shifting caused the ice to give way beneath him. It had been so horrifically cold, painful beyond belief. The scariest moment of it all being when the icy abyss had closed over his head. The pain had made him gasp, precious air leaving his lungs and abandoning him for dead as he attempted to inhale, the sharp intensity of the water hitting his lungs stabbing in to him like fire.

It had felt exactly like this.

The air rushing from his lungs and making his knees weak, nearly enough for him to fall to the ground.

Damn him if he couldn't feel a lump form in his throat when he caught sight of something that sent tremors of terror racing through his veins, a cold settling over him like he'd just been plunged back in that lake. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Could just stare in disbelief.

On the wall, still dripping wet with what even in the dark was undeniably blood, was the letter "A".

Rick's words echoing through his mind, "They don't get to live."

Rick had had the right idea. Every time they left a foe alive, every time they thought themselves safe, it wasn't long till everything went to Hell in a hand basket. He should have listened to Rick, they all should have. He should have gone back with him. They should have done something.

But he had been afraid.

He hated to admit it, the twisting of self loathing in his gut coiled tightly as bile rose in his throat. He had been scared, in front of that trough, listening to them move down that line and waiting for that bat to bash in his skull. Powerless to save himself and the others. Helpless.

When they'd gotten away, all of them by some miracle, he hadn't wanted to go back. On a base level he had agreed with Rick but he had held his tounge, listening to Abraham, Rosita and the others argue back. The new people who didn't know Rick thinking he was crazy and their family thinking Rick was having another psychotic episode. They didn't see the truth in what he had been saying. No one had but him, Carl and Michonne. They should have gone back, made sure...

Not allowed another Governor. Another loose end allowed to go unchecked, to stalk and chase them, nipping at their heels and forcing them to watch as they were picked off like poor Hershel.

But then Carol had arrived, with Judith and Tyreese, and he allowed himself to be lulled in to a false sense of security like a lamb for slaughter, desperate to believe the illusion that it was all going to be okay.

Now he was paying the price of his cowardice.

Now, he was losing everyone and everything.

Again.

It would be all his fault.

Again.

Daryl quickly forced himself in to action, moving quicker now that time could be of the essence. His family could be in there, needing someone to help them, needing him. He wasn't about to let those bastards have his family.

This time, he would kill every last one of those damn psychotic bastards.

He crept through the trees, coming around the side of the building, all thoughts of his little stowaway completely absent from his mind as his rage burned in his chest, his hands shaking from adrenaline. He needed to get the others, there was no telling what...

Then he saw her.

He could have nearly cried out with relief when he saw her dark figure perched on the step of the church, relaxed and fiddling with that katana sheath of hers until she suddenly sensed him. Her familiar outline as she stood, listening to him moving through the dark, was more wonderful then he could express. If Michonne was out on watch, then they must have fought.

They might all still be alive.

He saw Michonne draw her sword, a sense of nostalgia at the sight making him ache even though the weapon had been MIA for mere days, and stalk towards him. No doubt ready to start separating some heads from their shoulders, itching to do it. He really should have said something but he nearly didn't trust his voice not to betray him, to show more emotion then he would normally allow. He forced himself to calm down, to breathe before stepping through the trees.

Her smile was nearly blinding when she realized who it was, although it quickly fell when she realized it was him alone.

Daryl watched for a moment, wondering where to even begin. Where she should begin. To find out what happened before he remembered, the thought of the little girl hitting him like lightning. Deciding he should probably get the little girl out of the walker infested woods first, he turned, calling over his shoulder.

"Come on out!"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued<em>

* * *

><p>For any of y'all that have not played the video game series "The Walking Dead" by Telltale, GET IT NOW!<p>

Just so everyone knows now, this fic will contain no romance.  
>No ships will be hinted at here as this story will not be about that, but Team Rick as a family, with side helping of Team Clem-Clem.<br>I thought I would give you advanced warning so no one is dissapointed later on.

There will be a lot of friendship building between characters and to fully understand what is going on with Clementine's side of the story, you should at least be basically knowledgeable on her tale from the games.

The ending for Season 2 that I am going with here is Kenny bringing Clementine and AJ to Wellington, but forcing them to stay there without him. If you played the game and did not pick this ending, then there are plenty of videos on youtube to watch it so you know what is happening. And if you didn't see it... Prepare some tissues, because it was heart wrenching.


End file.
